Of Mudbloods and Slytherins
by cupcake0118
Summary: Hermione is sorted into Slytherin and is shunned by her housemates due to her blood status. Originally leading the group set on tormenting Hermione, Draco Malfoy eventually offers her a tentative friendship, and their story begins. This story is based on their First Year. I will be writing subsequent stories based on each of their Hogwarts years. (Picture not mine)
1. Chapter 1

**Roses are red**

**Violets are blue**

**I don't own Harry Potter**

**This is sad, but true**

* * *

The small girl stood amongst her new classmates, who were crammed tightly together as they waited to enter the large wooden doors.

A stern looking witch appeared and the group quieted down.

"Follow me," she said brusquely.

The group shuffled forward, jostling their way in to what they had been told was the Great Hall. They found themselves standing on a platform in front of four long, wooden dining tables. A sea of black pointed hats bobbed and swayed as the older students seated at the tables craned their necks to get a better look at this year's newest recruits.

The girl began to feel weak at the knees, and willed herself to stand straight. She felt an elbow in her back and turned to glare at its owner. The pale, blonde boy from the train sneered back at her. She whipped her head back around, her bushy brown hair flying, as a voice sounded through the space.

"The sorting hat," a whisper came from behind her. She bristled, thinking how rude it was to speak when clearly they were meant to be listening.

"What does it do?"

"You put it on and it tells you which house you belong in."

"So no spell casting, troll fighting?"

"Where the heck have you been getting your information from, Weasley?"

The other boy mumbled something unintelligible and they fell silent.

The hat had finished its song, and the girl gritted her teeth. She had hardly heard a word thanks to the three boys behind her.

The stern witch was back in front of them now, and she instructed them to step forward and put the hat on when she called their name.

"Abbott, Hannah," She called, and a girl with blonde pigtails stepped forward. She placed the dusty hat on her head.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat shouted. She scurried off to join her table.

"Boot, Terry," was a confident-looking boy who quickly became a Ravenclaw.

"Brown, Lavender," became a Gryffindor, which was clearly the most exuberant house if their reaction was anything to go by.

Bullstrode, Millicent!" A burly looking girl pushed her way through the group, and jammed the hat on her head.

"SLYTHERIN!" The girl sneered, and the table to the far right cheered.

As the stern witch made her way down the list, the girl began to visibly shake. She had read about the houses, of course. Though due to her Muggle (that's what Headmaster Dumbledore had called her parents) heritage, she could only go on the shallow facts books provided.

"Granger, Hermione," The stern witch looked up, and the girl stiffened. _Walk! _She commanded herself, _go to the hat!_

She felt her legs comply, and she was soon seated on the small stool in front of her peers. She slowly placed the hat on her head, and jumped slightly when a small voice sounded in her ear.

"Hmmm," the hat murmured, "Brilliant mind you've got there, Granger. Ambitious, I see. Cunning, too, though it's very well hidden for the most part. I think I know where you belong…"

"SLYTHERIN!"

Hermione hopped off the stool and turned to look at the Slytherin table. No one was smiling. No one was cheering. The whispers started at the Hufflepuff table, and spread outwards like spilt cooking oil.

She swallowed, took the hat off her head and placed it back on the stool. She walked woodenly towards the far side of the hall, her head held high. She sat on the edge of the bench, closest to the platform she had just left. The few students seated at this end scooted closer together, leaving a span of wooden bench between them and Hermione. She sighed and determinedly fixed her eyes on the Sorting Hat.

She watched resolutely as the rest of her classmates were sorted. She had to work to keep her jaw off the floor when the boy with the toad – Neville – joined Gryffindor. Jealousy rose in her gut like acid reflux as she watched Harry Potter and that red-haired boy join him.

* * *

Once the Sorting Hat had finished its duty and was taken away, the tables filled with all the most delicious of dinner foods.

Hermione was momentarily distracted from her predicament as she loaded roast meats, baked potatoes and gravy on to her plate.

The hall was bursting with noise as students chatted and laughed. No one paid her any mind, and she felt a little hurt. She had no idea why they were ignoring her.

"Fancy letting a Mudblood into Slytherin!" A cold voice came from across the table, "It's an outrage! Poor old Salazar must be rolling around in his grave!"

Another boy snorted, "The Hat must have had a malfunction or something."

"Well I hope Dumbledore fixes it quickly."

"Knowing Dumbledore, it was he who caused the malfunction in the first place," The group grunted their assent and the first boy shot a look at Hermione.

"Oi, mudblood! What's you name again?"

Hermione was unsure if he was talking to her at first and motioned with her index finger at her chest.

The boys beside the one who had spoken to her roared with laughter. The boy smirked.

"Yes, you."

"Hermione Granger," she said evenly, lifting her chin slightly.

"Well, Granger, welcome to Slytherin," Hermione narrowed her eyes. He didn't sound welcoming, and his posture suggested he meant otherwise.

"Thank you," She replied coolly.

"It's true then?" A high-pitched voice came from further down the table. A dark haired girl with a nose like a pug lifted herself from her seat and sauntered over to sit next to Hermione.

"There's a mudblood in Slytherin?"

"It would appear so, Pansy."

"Wait until my mother hears about this!" The girl sneered.

"Ten Galleons says my father flips out before your mother," the pale boy scoffed.

"You're on, Draco," The girl named Pansy retorted.

They shook hands. Hermione wondered if they could still see her. It felt so surreal.

She cleared her throat, "I'm sorry," she started, "but what's a mudblood?"

The group chuckled and Hermione knew it was at her expense.

"A witch or wizard born to non-magic parents," The boy named Draco said. He looked as though he had swallowed something foul.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, "Is that a bad thing?"

The group laughed heartily this time.

"The worst, Granger. No one in Slytherin has _ever_ been less than half-blood," Draco leaned back slightly, "which is more than should be let into Hogwarts, if you ask me."

Hermione was silent, processing what he was saying. So that was why she received no cheers, no claps on the back as she took her seat at the Slytherin table. They thought she was beneath them, not worthy of their high blood status.

Tears began to form at the back of her eyes, but she forced them back. They were for later, when she was alone. Not here, where they could see and further make fun of her.

Thankfully, the Headmaster chose that moment to stand and the Hall fell quiet.

He ran through the school rules, and welcomed the first years. He then sent them to bed.

* * *

Hermione followed the Slytherin prefects through the castle and down to the dungeons. She shivered slightly as the temperature dropped, though no one else seemed to be effected.

"Here we are," the prefect stopped outside a large, grey wall.

The first years craned their necks to see what he was indicating. It still looked like a plain old wall to Hermione.

"Salazar," the wall slowly opened, revealing a large common room bathed in dim green light.

The group crammed in. Older students lazed in black leather arm chairs in front of a roaring fire. Others were propped up on desks, leaning against the windows or climbing the spiral staircases Hermione assumed would lead to the sleeping quarters.

"Girls, follow me," the haughty-looking female prefect called and Hermione fell in line behind Pansy, Millicent and two other girls.

She ascended the stair case, and was shown to a wooden door.

"In there are you dormitories," she nodded towards the door, then turned around and left.

Hermione was feeling extremely anxious. She rung her hands as the two other girls stepped into their dorm. Hermione followed reluctantly.

There were five four-poster beds, covered in quilts of black, green and silver.

The four other girls chose their beds, and Hermione was left with the one closest to the door. She sighed, and moved to drag her trunk to the foot of her bed. They unpacked silently, and then Hermione changed in to her night things and crawled between the covers.

"Goodnight," she said meekly. There came no reply, and soon she was fast asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Roses are red**

**Violets are blue**

**I don't own Harry Potter**

**This is sad, but true**

* * *

Hermione was grateful to the boy named Harry Potter. He was the talk of the school, and during the first week, the Slytherins seemed too preoccupied with The Boy Who Lived to exert too much energy tormenting her.

Of course, Draco Malfoy, and his cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, were an exception. They tripped Hermione as she exited the common room, hid her books so she was late to class, and threw bits of parchment at her when the teachers weren't looking.

Despite this, Hermione quickly rose to the top of every one of her subjects. She had even earned a rare smile from Professor McGonagall, the strict witch from the sorting, when she successfully transfigured a matchstick into a needle.

So it was with high expectations she entered the potions room that Friday morning. As usual, she sat alone, and spread her things out across the desk in front of her. She had arrived before anyone else, but soon the rest of the students had filed in. She recognised Neville Longbottom, Harry Potter and his red-headed friend. They would share this class with the Gryffindors.

Draco and his gang arrived last, and took their seats just as a tall man burst into the room, his black robes swishing behind him menacingly.

After a fearsome introduction to potions, Professor Snape levelled his gaze to Potter's.

"Potter, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Hermione's hand shot up. She had re-read _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ just last night.

Hermione huffed when the boy admitted he didn't know.

She practically leapt out of her seat as Snape asked another question. Again, she was ignored.

The third time Potter was asked a question he clearly could not answer, Hermione stood straight up, her hand waving madly above her head.

"I don't know, sir," Potter said evenly, "Perhaps you should ask Miss Granger over there, she seems to know the answer,"

Hermione felt her cheeks flame, and sat back in her seat. Draco sniggered behind her, clearly enjoying the show.

Snape deducted points from Gryffindor, and Hermione glared down at her parchment. She decided she did not like Professor Snape, even if he was Head of Slytherin.

Her morning only went downhill from there, as Snape paired them up to create a potion to cure boils. Hermione was paired with Malfoy, much to her chagrin.

"Try not to touch anything of mine, mudblood," he sneered, "I'd hate to have to replace my tools because they were contaminated by your dirty hands."

She scowled at him, but bit back a retort. They set to work, in silence, only pausing once to glance over at the Gryffindors when Longbottom inadvertently spilt his potion and caused angry red boils to sprout over his arms and legs. Draco laughed along with the rest of the Slytherins, but Hermione felt pity for the clumsy boy.

Class ended soon afterwards, and Malfoy swept from the room, his thick friends trailing after him, without bothering to clean up his mess. Hermione sighed and got to work, ladling some of their potion into a vial and walked it to the front of the class.

The professor looked up as she placed the sample on his desk, nodding stiffly in acknowledgment. She offered a small smile, turned on her heel, gathered her things from her desk, and slowly exited the room.

* * *

She entered the Great Hall for lunch, clearly one of the last students to arrive. There was still enough food to go around, however, so she perched herself on the edge of the Slytherin table and began munching on a sandwich.

Someone had left their copy of the Daily Prophet on the table, and Hermione pulled it towards her. The front page showed a number of Goblins outside the front of Gringotts, the wizarding bank in Diagon Alley. Hermione had opened an account there the day she had received her Hogwarts letter. She scanned the article. Apparently, there had been a break-in. She frowned. Gringotts was meant to be one of the most secure locations in the wizarding world. It would have taken one hell of an operation to successfully open one of the vaults without permission.

"No point in staring, Granger," the cold voice of Draco Malfoy came from over her shoulder, "Galleons are not going to pour from the pages, even if the pictures do move," His cronies guffawed at his pathetic jibe.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "That the best you've got, Malfoy?"

"No," he said indignantly, "But you're not worth my time, mudblood," he grinned triumphantly and sauntered off, Crabbe and Goyle trailing after him like ugly, upright dogs.

Hermione sighed and stood up, her appetite now non-existent.

She walked through the castle aimlessly, until she came to a large door with "LIBRARY" written across it in faded, gold lettering. She pushed on the door, which creaked as it allowed her entrance.

There were shelves upon shelves of books, new and old. Hermione grinned as a feeling of belonging settled in her chest. She made her way to a small nook near a section on Transfiguration. She pulled one off its shelf and settled in one of the nearby chairs, the book spread across her lap.

* * *

Hours later, she emerged from her hiding spot feeling happy and relaxed.

"Well, well, well, looky here!" A deep voice boomed as she entered the dungeons.

She should have known those positive feelings would not last long.

"If it isn't our favourite little mudblood," another voice hissed.

The owner of the first voice, a tall, dark haired boy appeared from the shadow, a look of disgust on his face.

The second voice belonged to a skinny, blonde haired girl Hermione knew to be in fifth year.

"Now, now, Blair," the boy said, his eyes locked on Hermione's, "Let's not get too excited just yet."

Hermione looked from one to the other. She had gone all week without attracting any kind of negative attention from her fellow Slytherins, save for the pathetic jibes Malfoy had offered. Now her perfect afternoon would be ruined by these older bullies. She wanted to cry, but fought the urge, knowing that was the reaction they were hoping for.

"Do you _know_ what you've done to the house of Slytherin?!" The girl demanded.

"N-no," Hermione struggled to keep her voice calm.

"You've _tainted _it," the girl whispered, advancing on Hermione.

The boy grinned, malice glinting in his dark eyes.

"We've never had a mudblood in our common room before," he added, "I'm surprised it didn't burst in to flame when you entered it."

Hermione swallowed, unsure of how to respond.

"I think it's about time we teach you a little lesson, Hermione Granger," Hermione found herself up against the stone wall of the dungeon, the dampness seeping into the back of her school robes.

"I - "

_Slap!_

Tears welled up in her eyes as Hermione's neck snapped to the side.

"Blair!" The boy barked, "We agreed, nothing physical!"

"I didn't agree, Oscar!" The girl grinned and raised her hand to strike Hermione again.

"No!" The boy grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

Both directed their gaze down the corridor. Hermione held her breath.

Footsteps. She sighed in relief as the older students scattered.

"Miss Granger," the resonating voice of Professor Snape preceded his entrance, "What happened?"

Hermione couldn't speak as threatening sobs constricted her throat.

Snape's nostrils flared.

"Get to the common room," he demanded.

Hermione turned on her heel, not needing to be told twice. She ran the rest of the way through the dungeons, screamed "Salazar!" at the right wall, and practically fell through the opening.

She ran passed her bewildered housemates, some of whom sniggered and pointed as they noticed the tears on her cheeks.

Amongst the jeering crowd, a pair of grey eyes watched her as she stomped up the stairs to her dormitory, and if she had taken the opportunity to notice, she would have seen that for once, they held no malice.


	3. Chapter 3

**Roses are red**

**Violets are blue**

**I don't own Harry Potter**

**This is sad, but true**

* * *

The next morning Hermione stayed huddled in her dormitory long after breakfast had been cleared from the Great Hall.

She felt humiliated and frustrated. She knew that if her housemates just gave her a chance she could prove to them that she deserved to be in Slytherin. But none of them could see past the end of their pointy, aristocratic noses.

Hermione sighed and rolled over. Pulling the curtains on her four-poster apart, she reached for her watch. It had started malfunctioning when she had arrived at Hogwarts, as Muggle devices often went haywire with all the magic in the air. However, if she shook it hard enough it would briefly show her the correct time.

It was noon, or there about. She flopped back on to the mattress. She waited for the familiar growl of her stomach, but it made no sound. Her appetite seemed to have been slapped out of her by Blair the blonde-haired fifth year.

Hermione wallowed in self-pity for a few more moments, before forcing herself to sit up. She mechanically dressed in jeans and a shirt, shoving her wand in her pocket. She rummaged in her trunk until she located a roll of parchment and a quill.

Ready, she slowly entered the Slytherin common room. It was empty, save for a small group of seventh years who were huddled around a small desk, obviously studying. They ignored Hermione, and she them, as she disappeared into the corridor.

It was a long walk to the Owlery, and Hermione used the time to think about what she wanted to include in her letter. Part of her wanted to write about how much she hated Hogwarts, and would it be possible for her parents to come and collect her? Surely there must be another wizarding school in Britain which could accommodate her. If not, she was not completely opposed to continuing her education in the Muggle world. At least she wouldn't be looked down upon, as if she was some cockroach trailing germs and filth behind her.

She slowed her pace further as she reached the stairs of the Owlery. The owl droppings tended to make the cement slippery, and Hermione was enough of an outcast without a bird poo stain on her backside.

She stood in the circular room for a moment, just watching. Owls of every shape, size and colour were sitting on branches reaching beyond Hermione's eye sight. Many were sleeping, their heads tucked under their wings. Others were sitting close together, pecking miniscule debris out of their feathers.

Hermione carefully set her parchment down on the least poo-laden bench and began to pen her letter.

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_I have finished my first week at Hogwarts and I have learnt some amazing things. _

_We have Charms class, and Potions, and Transfiguration, as well as Care of Magical Creatures. Some other classes were a surprise to me, such as Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Astronomy. We have to watch the stars at midnight on a Tuesday night. It's all very interesting. _

_I hope you are well, I will write again soon. _

_Love,_

_Hermione_

She signed her name slowly, as if she wasn't really ready to finish the letter.

"Granger?" A voice came from behind her, causing the quill to slip slightly on the parchment. Hermione huffed as she tried to blot the excess ink with her sleeve.

A few seconds later, it appeared the streak would not budge. She turned slowly, rolling her parchment.

"Malfoy," She bit out as she came face to face with the blonde boy.

He nodded slightly, and moved further into the Owlery. A magnificent horned owl fluttered down and landed gracefully on his shoulder. He handed a neatly folded piece of parchment to the bird, and it clamped it in its beak before taking flight. It circled his head once, and then soared out of one of the pane-less windows.

Hermione shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She was not sure how to summon one of the school owls to take her letter to her parents. Of course, she was not about to ask Draco Malfoy, of all people, for help. She would never give him the satisfaction.

Unfortunately, he seemed aware of her predicament. He moved to stand next to her, and looked up into the mass of owls.

He cleared his throat. A few of the owls looked up, hooting sleepily. He nodded at one who seemed the most rested, and it left its perch. It landed on Hermione's shoulder, and opened its beak expectantly. She looked at it, wide eyed, for a moment, and then slowly moved her rolled parchment so it could take it from her hand.

Once the letter was secure, the owl spread its wings and left out the same window as Draco's owl had exited.

"Thank you," she whispered, watching the small brown dot disappear into nothing on the horizon.

"You're welcome," he said stiffly.

Hermione moved awkwardly, preparing to leave the Owlery. She only hoped Malfoy would let her pass without too much of a scene.

No such luck. He used his arms to block the doorway, his cloak acting like a screen against anyone who might interrupt them.

Hermione sighed, "Seriously Malfoy, not today. Please, I'm not in the mood."

"I'm not here to argue with you, Granger," his eyes narrowed.

Hermione's widened.

"Then please move out of my way."

"I need to talk to you."

Hermione snorted, "I cannot imagine there is anything you need to say to me, Draco. Please just move."

He shook his head, his grey eyes boring into Hermione's brown ones.

"Please, just listen."

Hermione almost fell over. Did Malfoy just say 'please'?

"I'm sorry for the way I treated you," He took a deep breath and looked at the floor.

"Excuse me?" Hermione folded her arms across her chest, unconvinced by his apology.

He glanced back at her face, and held her gaze as he repeated himself.

"I don't believe you," Hermione said quietly, "How can you change your prejudice so suddenly?"

"I haven't," Draco agreed, "But I'll make an exception for you, Granger. I may be a bully, but I realised something last night, when you came into the common room."

Hermione blanched at the memory.

"And what was that?" She asked.

"You're a Slytherin."

"Really?" She mocked, rolling her eyes.

"Listen!" He huffed, "I know what Blair and Oscar did to you. At first, I thought it was funny, that you deserved it. I hoped it would force you to return to whatever Muggle hole you crawled out of."

Hermione frowned, and he quickly continued, "But, then I thought that even though you are a mud…I mean, even though you are _Muggleborn_, you're still a Slytherin," he shrugged, "the hat doesn't make mistakes. And that means that we need to stick together. Regardless of your parentage, I want…I'd like us…I think that we should be…friends."

Hermione, who had been listening intently to his little speech, now burst out laughing.

"Oh, Malfoy!" She choked out, "You almost had me!" She doubled over, clutching her stomach.

Draco stood, his arms crossed over his chest, watching her through narrowed eyes.

"When you're quite finished, Granger," he snapped.

Hermione wiped the tears from her face.

"Seriously," she craned her neck to look past Draco, "Where are Crabbe and Goyle? Or did you bring Parkinson instead? Are they getting ready to jump me as we make our way down to the Great Hall?" She grinned stupidly.

"They're not here," Draco ground out through his teeth, "I'm serious, Hermione!"

Hermione's grin slipped off her face.

"Did you just call me…?"

"Hermione? Yes. That is your name, isn't it?"

"Yes, but…"

"Look, Granger. I do want to be your friend. I can protect you from the other Slytherins. I am a Malfoy, after all," He drew himself up to his full height, his chest thrust forward.

Hermione would have laughed, had she not been so dumbfounded.

"Ok, Malfoy," she finally said, "I'll be your friend," a smile began to spread across Draco's face.

"But know this," the smile drooped a little, "If this," she motioned between the two of them, "creates any more issues, I will hex you to within an inch of your life. I promise you that," Her nostrils flared.

"Granger," he grinned and extended his hand, "you and I are going to get along just fine."

Hermione couldn't help but return his grin.

Draco offered her his arm, and together they descended from the Owlery.

* * *

As they entered the common room, they were greeted by Crabbe and Goyle. They stared dumbly at Draco, who glared back at them.

"Crabbe, Goyle," he began, "Hermione Granger is not to be messed with anymore. Understand?"

The goons nodded, their eyes still wide and mouths still slack with shock.

Pansy Parkinson was not so easily won over.

"But Draco," she whined, "She's _dirty_. She's beneath us; you don't need to feel sorry for her!"

When Draco had responded vehemently in opposition to what Pansy had said, she played her trump card.

"Your father is going to be so cross!"

But Draco didn't care what his father thought. He had seen the girl last night, Blair's handprint an angry red splotch on her pale cheek, coated with tears. He had felt sorry for her. And Draco Malfoy _never_ felt sorry for _anyone_. She was intelligent, he knew from sharing all his classes with her, and she gave as good as she got when he tried to rile her up.

Pansy had stomped off to her dormitory after that, and Hermione was scared to follow her at bedtime. Draco understood this, and kept her company in the common room until neither of them could keep their eyes open any longer.

"She should be asleep now," he whispered.

"Ok," Hermione said, stifling another yawn.

"Goodnight, Granger," Draco grinned sleepily, and made his way slowly up to the boys dormitories.

Draco had been right. When Hermione entered her room, it was dark and quiet except for the light snores coming from Pansy's bed. Hermione changed quickly and settled herself between the blankets.

For the first time since arriving at Hogwarts, she fell asleep with a smile on her face.


	4. Chapter 4

**Roses are red**

**Violets are blue**

**I don't own Harry Potter**

**This is sad, but true**

* * *

A notice greeted the first year Slytherins the following morning, stating they would begin flying lessons on Thursday morning.

"With the Gryffindors?" Draco groaned and flopped into an armchair, "It's bad enough we have to share potions with them."

Hermione patted his shoulder awkwardly. She was not completely opposed to the Gryffindors, as most of the other Slytherin students seem to be.

* * *

Thursday morning dawned bright and clear, and Hermione cursed the beautiful weather. Her stomach churned at the thought of being on a broomstick.

Draco had told her not to be such a baby about it, and that she was so good at everything else, there was no doubt she'd be flying laps around the rest of them on her first go.

She traipsed behind Draco, Crabbe and Goyle as they sauntered down to the Quidditch pitch. Hermione still had no idea what the Wizard's sport entailed, though she'd heard plenty of Hogwarts first year students boasting about their abilities in the prelude to their first flying lesson.

A tall, grey haired woman greeted the students as they spilled out on to the lawn. Her yellow eyes narrowed as she barked at them to stand beside a broom. Hermione peered around Draco, and saw that there were two lines of brooms lying on the grass.

The students shuffled towards the wooden objects, and jostled one another until they were all standing to the left side of a broom.

"I am Madam Hooch," their professor said, marching up the space left between the two rows of brooms, "I need you all to listen very carefully to me. I am aware some of you have experience with flying. However, I am also aware that for most of you, this will be your first time on a broom," She turned with a swish of her robes and faced them from the other end of the line.

"Everyone stretch their right hand over the broom and say 'up!'"

The students did as they were told. Hermione's broom refused to acknowledge her, save for the pathetic roll it exerted.

Draco's broom shot up into his hand on his first command and he smirked. Hermione scowled at him.

Finally, after many embarrassing attempts, Hermione's broom sailed into her outstretched hand. She smiled, satisfied.

"Right, now hook your leg over the broom," Madam Hooch instructed. The students did as they were told, some with more grace than others.

"I want you to push off gently from the ground. Hover for a moment, then lean forward slightly and touch back down. On my whistle, three, two…"

But she never reached one. Neville Longbottom had hovered into the air on "three" and was now floating above their heads.

"Lean forward!" Madam Hooch shouted, but Neville panicked and yanked the handle skywards. His broom lurched, and he soared higher.

Madam Hooch followed with her wand in front of her as Neville flew erratically around the pitch.

Malfoy was watching the scene with barely concealed glee. Hermione followed his gaze, one hand shielding her eyes from the sun.

"I think he's coming back down!" Shrieked Parvarti Patil, a Gryffindor student with long, shiny, black hair.

She was right. Neville was approaching the ground at a furious pace. Hermione muffled a scream with her hand as the boy bounced onto the grass.

Madam Hooch surged forward, and reached him just before the gaggle of students.

She picked Neville up with surprising strength for such a weedy looking woman, and set him on his feet.

"No one is to move while I take Mr Longbottom to the hospital wing!" She barked, "If I see one broom in the air, the student riding it will be expelled from Hogwarts before they can say 'Quidditch.'"

The group watched as Neville hobbled, sniffling, towards the castle.

Hermione turned to find Draco and tripped over something round. She reached down and her hand enclosed around a small, clear ball. She brought it up to her face, examining it. She had read about Remembralls, and knew they were used to help the owner remember when they had forgotten something.

"Give it here!" A large hand swiped Hermione's, effectively wrenching the object from her grasp.

"Hey!" She said indignantly, turning to face the offending party with her hands on her hips.

"It's not yours!" The red-haired friend of Harry Potter spat, turning the Remembrall over in his left hand.

"I was just looking at it. I found it on the ground!" Hermione's eyes flashed.

"Weasley," the cool voice of Draco Malfoy intercepted their exchange, "Are you disturbing my friend?" He stood slightly in front of Hermione, his arms folded menacingly across his chest.

Harry Potter appeared; his eyes level with Draco's.

"It belongs to Neville," he said evenly, "he must have dropped it."

"Well that is just too bad," Draco sneered, unfolding his arms.

In the blink of an eye, he had snatched the Remembrall out of Weasley's hand.

"OI!" the boy yelled.

Draco smirked, tossing the ball in front of him.

"Give it here, Malfoy!" Potter stepped forward and held his hand out expectantly.

"No," Draco replied, "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find."

He swung a leg over his broom, and kicked off hard. He shot into the air, the wind blowing his pale blonde hair back from his exuberant face.

"How about on the roof?!" He yelled delightedly, as he swooped back down through the congregation of students.

"Draco!" Hermione yelled, "Come down this instant! You'll be expelled!"

If he heard her, he ignored her protests and flew higher and higher, the Remembrall still clutched in his hand.

"No way, Harry!" A female voice sounded from the Gryffindors.

Hermione spun around to see Potter mimic Draco's actions, and soon he too was in the air.

The students huddled together, their faces turned upwards as they watched the two boys on their brooms. They could not hear what they were saying, but after Potter reached out and shook Draco's broom, Draco threw the Remembrall with all his might at the castle wall.

Potter dived for it, leaning flat against the handle of his broom.

Draco landed gracefully next to Hermione as Potter flipped a few times in the air, then steadied himself, the Remembrall clutched in his hand.

Draco scowled and turned to walk back to the castle. Hermione glanced worriedly back at the scene on the Quidditch pitch. Potter had landed, waving the ball above his head. The Gryffindors were cheering.

Hermione dropped her broom and followed her friend.

"Draco!" She called as she ran down the corridor after him, "Wait up!"

But he wouldn't. She reached an intersection of two corridors, and she couldn't tell which one he'd gone down. She retraced her steps back to the Quidditch pitch, and reached her classmates just in time to see Professor McGonagall leading Potter away from the group.

She smirked at Weasley, as he rung his big hands. He tried to frown at her, but Hermione knew his concern for his friend prevented any ability he had to rearrange his frightened features.

* * *

Hermione found Draco in their common room, sitting nonchalantly in an armchair. They did not speak of the Remembrall incident; save for Hermione telling Draco that McGonagall had carted Potter off to her office after he had departed.

Draco had cheered up after hearing that, and so when they entered the Great Hall for dinner and saw Potter sitting with Weasley and the rest of the Gryffindor first years, Draco had almost imploded with rage.

He stomped over to the raven-haired boy, pushing past several older Gryffindor students.

"Enjoying your last meal at Hogwarts, Potter?" He sneered.

Potter smirked, "Not at all, Malfoy."

Draco quirked an eyebrow, but showed no other emotion.

"Harry's been made seeker for Gryffindor's Quidditch team!" Weasley piped up.

Shock marred Draco's features for a moment, but he quickly concealed it.

"Well, congratulations," he mocked, "Trust Gryffindor to employ the first student who can fall off a broom and catch a stupid Remembrall on the way down. No wonder they lose to Slytherin all the time, _we_ hold proper try-outs" he chuckled at his own joke.

"I'll have you know, _Malfoy_ that Gryffindor - "

"Oh, shut it Weasley. No one wants to hear the dribble that comes out of your filthy mouth," Draco smirked, his pride once again intact.

"Ron, calm down," Potter eyed his friend, whose breathing had become erratic.

"I'd take you on any time, Malfoy," Weasley growled.

Draco laughed, "No, thanks. I'd take on Potter, though. I think it's about time we find out who the _better_ wizard is. In fact, I challenge you to a duel," he leaned forward, his grey eyes dancing.

Weasley gasped. Potter looked confused.

"A wizard's duel," Draco repeated, "Bet you haven't heard of them, eh Potter?"

Potter narrowed his eyes but did not respond.

"Tonight, meet me at the trophy room at midnight."

He did not wait for a reply, and turned abruptly to saunter back to his own table.

He sat down next to Hermione with a huff.

"Everything ok?" she asked, wiping her mouth with a napkin.

Draco nodded, and sipped his pumpkin juice.

"I challenged Potter to a duel."

Hermione choked, "You what?!" She gasped as tears pooled in her eyes.

Draco thumped her on the back a few times and her breathing steadied.

"I'm not going to go!" He scoffed, "How stupid do you think I am?"

"But - "

"Granger, listen. Potter can't help himself. He's a bloody hero. He'll go to the trophy room, ready to fight me. I'll let Filch know early on that I overheard a bunch of students talking about meeting there at midnight. Potter and his Weasel friend will be caught, and with any luck, expelled" he quirked an eyebrow.

"Genius," Hermione grinned. After the incident with Weasley and the Remembrall, she no longer felt any positive sentiments towards Gryffindor house.

"I know," Malfoy sighed with an air of feigned modesty.

Hermione giggled, and they finished their meal.

* * *

They sat together in the common room that night, Draco attempting to teach Hermione how to play wizard chess.

She felt it was rather barbaric, but Draco insisted she learn how to play.

When the bell rang to signal midnight, the two friends grinned at each other mischievously. Both were itching to find out if Potter and Weasley had been caught by Filch and his old cat, Mrs Norris.

They stayed for a few minutes, discussing the possibilities for punishment of the two Gryffindors, before retreating to their respective dormitories.

Despite the fact Hermione had never been much of a fighter, and believed that being a bully would get you nowhere, she felt a rush of excitement when she imagined what Weasley's face would look like the next morning, after having been caught by Filch.

She could not wait until breakfast.


	5. Chapter 5

**Roses are red**

**Violets are blue**

**I don't own Harry Potter**

**This is sad, but true**

* * *

It was with a feeling of great anticipation that Draco and Hermione thundered through the castle the next morning, their laughter bouncing off the cold stone walls and echoing eerily around the dungeons.

They ascended the last staircase and burst through the doors to the Great Hall, cheeks flushed, and their robes still swishing around them.

Draco spotted Potter and Weasley first, sitting at the Gryffindor table as usual. They did not look like students who were about to be shipped off on the Hogwarts Express with a one-way ticket back to London.

Hermione followed his gaze and her shoulders slumped. She scowled and folded her arms across her chest.

"What is it with those guys?" Hermione sighed.

"It's Potter," Draco scowled, digging his hands deep into his pockets.

He turned slowly and shuffled towards the Slytherin table, his appetite no longer apparent. Hermione followed him, glancing at the two Gryffindors over her shoulder as she went.

"He's the Boy Who Lived. He can do no wrong. Filch probably caught them and sent them to Dumbledore," he spat the Headmaster's name, "Probably had a bloody tea party in his office," Draco threw himself on to a spare bit of bench and placed his elbows on the table. Hermione would normally have scolded him for so blatantly disregarding the rules of dining etiquette, but instead she mimicked his movements.

"I read he defeated one of the greatest dark wizards of our time," Hermione began slowly.

Draco snorted derisively, "No offense, Granger, but your beloved books are not going to give you sufficient information about the Dark Lord."

Hermione sat up straight, unsure whether to box Draco around the ears for his condescending tone, or to enquire about his apparent knowledge of Lord Voldemort.

Before she could decide, Draco chose for her.

"My Father was in You-Know-Who's inner circle," he turned to face her, his voice dropping to below a whisper.

Hermione had to lean forward to catch what he was saying.

"He doesn't talk about it much, but I know he was _really_ important, back in the day."

Draco's grey eyes danced with excitement, and Hermione couldn't help but smile. He was obviously very proud of his father, though Hermione privately thought his pride was misplaced.

The bell rang to signal the beginning of the morning classes, and Draco gracefully removed his long legs from under the bench. Hermione struggled with her book bag as it got stuck between her seat and the table. Draco smirked and offered her his hand. She took it, and he held it as they made their way through the front doors of the castle, and down into the grounds for their Care of Magical Creatures lesson.

* * *

A few weeks later, Hermione and Draco were sitting at breakfast again, the disappointment from their failed attempt to have Potter and his sidekick expelled from Hogwarts just a foggy memory.

Hermione was spooning porridge delicately into her mouth, while Draco chewed thoughtfully on a piece of toast. Crabbe and Goyle were sitting across from them, debating which Quiddtich team was going to win the Cup this year. Hermione had drowned them out, her interest in Quidditch still non-existent.

Their quarrel was interrupted when the post arrived. Hundreds of owls swooped in through the windows, carrying packages and letters. Hermione covered her porridge bowl subconsciously with her hands. It was a habit she had developed after the first morning at Hogwarts. She knew the owls were well trained in the wizarding world, but she wasn't about to test that theory by leaving her breakfast open for them to use as a toilet.

As the Hall settled again, Hermione uncovered her porridge and resumed eating.

"Whoa!" she heard someone mutter.

She looked up and saw a long parcel being carried into the hall by six owls. The students were silent as the package made its way to the Gryffindor table.

It landed in front of Potter.

"Of course," Hermione muttered, turning back to her cereal.

Draco had turned beet red and his toast lay in crumbs on his plate. Hermione assumed he had crushed it in his fist.

Potter didn't open his package in the hall, so Draco dragged Hermione out of the double doors as soon as he noticed the raven-haired boy was finished with his breakfast.

They found Potter, Weasley tagging close behind, just outside the Hall.

"What's that, Potter?" Draco asked, and grabbed the parcel without waiting for an answer.

"Give it back!" Weasley demanded.

Draco grinned, "That's a broom!" He sang happily. Hermione frowned, confused.

"First years aren't allowed their own brooms! You'll be in trouble now!"

"It's not just a broom," Weasley smirked, "It's a Nimbus 2000!"

Draco's jaw dropped. Hermione was still frowning.

"Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy," a squeaky voice sounded from below them. They looked down to see their Charms teacher, Professor Flitwick smiling up at them.

"Potter's got himself a broom!" Draco pointed.

"Ah, yes," Flitwick's smile widened, "Professor McGonagall told me about the special circumstances. Congratulations," he nodded, and then continued on past them.

"What the…?" Draco watched as the boys left, both of them laughing at his stunned expression.

"Forget it, Draco," Hermione tugged on his sleeve, "We knew he was made sniper for the Gryffindor team."

"Seeker!" He hissed, wrenching his robe from her grasp.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Whatever."

He started walking in the direction of their common room, and Hermione skipped behind him.

* * *

"This is boring, can we go now?"

"Granger, you will sit your butt down and watch this, or Merlin help me, I will hex you with a body-bind curse so you won't have a choice. Now shut up and pay attention!" Draco snapped and repositioned the binoculars against his face.

Hermione huffed and folded her arms indignantly.

They were hiding under the benches in the Slytherin stands on the Quidditch pitch. Below them, Potter was a little black speck, and the Gryffindor captain was giving him the run down on how to play the wizarding sport.

"Watch!" Draco whispered, "See that red ball?"

Hermione craned her neck and peeked between the benches. She nodded.

"That's the quaffle," Draco explained, "There are three chasers on each team, and their job is to get that ball through one of the three hoops at their end of the pitch. Each team also has a keeper, who guards the goal posts. Get it?"

Hermione frowned, but nodded again.

"No way!" Draco rammed his binoculars over his eyes again, "He's going to release one of the bludgers!" He grinned.

"And they are…?" Hermione prompted. She wanted this to be over soon so she could get back to the library and work on her potions essay.

"There are two of them, and they're charmed to chase the players around and knock them off their broom. There are two beaters on the team, and they carry wooden clubs – see! See what Potter's holding?" Draco pointed and Hermione squinted down at the pitch.

"Yes," she said.

"Watch, watch!" Draco hissed.

Hermione watched as Potter swung the bat back over his head, and connected with the black ball as it flew towards him.

"See? That's the beater's job," Draco explained, "They protect their teammates, and aim the bludgers towards the opposition."

"Charming," Hermione grimaced. She thought this game was starting to sound as barbaric as wizard chess. Draco laughed.

"Now, the next ball is going to be really difficult to see properly," Draco twisted some dials on his binoculars and Hermione inspected her fingernails.

"It's called the snitch, and it's the whole reason Potter was put on the team. It's the seeker's job to catch the snitch. When the snitch is caught, the game is over and the seeker who catches it earns his team one hundred and fifty points."

Hermione held her hand out to Draco, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Can I see?" She asked impatiently.

Draco silently handed over the binoculars.

She put them up to her face, and sought out Potter down below. She caught sight of a flash of gold, just near his ear.

"Is that it?" She asked, "That gold thing?"

"Yep," Draco nodded once, "That's it."

"Great, are we done now?" Hermione moved to climb onto one of the benches.

"Sit!" Draco tugged on her arm and pulled her back into their hiding spot, "They'll see you!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "I don't care; I have an essay to finish!"

Draco snorted, "Of course you do. Well, you can just wait. It's probably already half a foot longer than it needs to be."

Hermione blushed at the truth of his words. She had written over half a foot more than Professor Snape had asked for, and she had yet to write her conclusion.

After a few more minutes of companionable silence, Draco gave the all clear and they raised themselves out of their hiding space.

"I'll see you at dinner," Hermione told him, and hurried off to the library.

Draco grinned and dawdled back to the common room. He could not believe someone could be so studious they would rather hole themselves up in a library, of all places, rather than learn about the game of Quidditch.

Though, as much as she confused him, Draco knew he would not change a thing about his bushy-haired, bossy, know-it-all friend.


	6. Chapter 6

**Roses are red**

**Violets are blue**

**I don't own Harry Potter**

**This is sad, but true**

* * *

"Hard to believe we've been at Hogwarts for two months now, isn't it?" Draco asked on the morning of Hallowe'en.

"I know!" Hermione exclaimed, shifting her bag higher on to her shoulder as they passed the doors in to the Great Hall.

Since Draco had befriended her, the other Slytherins had ceased tormenting her. She had not been cornered in a dark hallway again, she had not been ambushed by older students, and she had not been called names, tripped, or been the victim of any practical jokes.

She was polite to Daphne Greengrass and Tracy Davies, the two other girls she shared a dorm with, and they were polite to her. Millicent was rude to everyone, so Hermione didn't pay her any mind.

Pansy Parkinson, on the other hand, took every opportunity to mock Hermione, in an attempt to make her cry. Or perhaps it was to show Draco that he should be spending his time with the pug-faced girl rather than the mudblood.

But Hermione was happy being friends with Draco, and he with her, and not even Pansy was going to be able to ruin that.

They sat at the Slytherin table and piled their plates full of delicious pastries. Hermione thought dinner that night should be something to look forward to, if breakfast was anything to go by.

* * *

Draco stood in front of the Great Hall later that evening, tapping his foot impatiently against the stone floor.

He had been waiting for at least ten minutes, and Hermione still hadn't shown up. They had planned to meet here before dinner, as he had been called to see Snape about his last essay which had taken up most of the afternoon.

He huffed and turned to crane his neck past the students who were filing in to the hall. He recognised many faces, but he could not see the familiar bushy-hair bobbing in the crowd.

"That's what Lavender said…" he heard someone murmur as they passed him.

"She's been in there all afternoon," another person added.

"Well she bloody deserves it, the know-it-all," Draco bristled. He'd recognise that voice anywhere.

"You shouldn't have spoken like that to her, Ron," Potter chided.

"You're defending Granger?!" Weasley retorted.

Draco clenched his fist and made to follow the group.

"Where's Hermione?" He demanded.

"Sod off, Malfoy," Weasley sneered.

"Why should we know?" Potter remarked.

"I heard you talking about her just now!" Draco stamped his foot impatiently.

"I can see why you two are friends," Potter quirked an eyebrow.

"Where is she?" Draco gritted his teeth.

Potter sighed, "All we know is that she's in a bathroom. She's been crying. Now, if you don't mind, we'll leave you to find your _girlfriend_, so we can enjoy the feast," Potter grinned, and sauntered off to Gryffindor table.

Draco swore under his breath. He didn't have a clue which bathroom Hermione would be in. And even if he did, there was no way he'd actually go in to one. He made a face at the thought of entering a girl's lavatory.

"Oi, Pansy!" He called, jogging over to the Slytherin table, "Have you heard anything about Hermione crying in a bathroom?"

Pansy's eyes lit up and Draco instantly regretted asking her.

"No," she shook her head, "Do you want me to look for her?" Her eyes glinted maliciously.

"No!" Draco said quickly, "It's probably just a rumour Potter started."

He sat next to Pansy to ensure she didn't run off to "find" Hermione. The next half an hour was agony for Draco, as he fought the urge to beat every one of the Gryffindor's heads in until one of them told him exactly where to find her.

He was sure they knew which bathroom she was in. They were just baiting him, waiting for a fight. Potter knew as well as he did that if a fight broke out between them in the Great Hall, Potter would be given a smack across the wrist and told not to be such a naughty boy, while Draco served a month's worth of detention scrubbing the dungeon floors with Filch.

Just as Draco stood to excuse himself from Pansy's company, after what he believed to be an appropriate amount of time, the doors to the Hall flew open. Draco looked up, half expecting it to be Hermione.

Professor Quirrell sprinted down the space between the House tables, and stood in front of the staff table at the front of the room.

"TROLL!" he shouted, "Troll, in the dungeons!" He shook violently, sweat beading on his forehead. Dumbledore stood slowly, and Quirrell collapsed.

There was an instant uproar as students began to panic, screaming and shoving each other in an attempt to be the first to reach the exit.

"SILENCE!" Dumbledore's voice rumbled through the space, and everyone froze.

He instructed the prefects of each house to take their students back to their common rooms. Teachers were to congregate in the dungeons.

Draco fell back so he brought up the rear of the group of Slytherins currently pushing their way through the doors. He made sure he was a few steps behind the students in front of him at all times. He kept an eye out for Hermione, but could not make anyone out in the sea of familiar black robes and pointy hats.

"She doesn't know!" He heard someone hiss, and looked to his right. Potter clutched Weasley's sleeve, an imploring look on his face. Weasley looked conflicted.

"Oh alright! But if I die for a Slytherin, I promise I will haunt you for the rest of eternity!" Weasley moaned.

Draco narrowed his eyes, and left his group to follow the boys down a different corridor.

They finally stopped outside a single wooden door. He leant out of the alcove he had taken refuge in, to ensure he was not seen by Potter and Weasley.

He briefly thought about knocking their heads together for not telling him where Hermione was when he'd asked, but reminded himself he needed to get Hermione to safety first. He filed the thought away for later; promising himself he would pay the pair of fools back the first chance he got.

He heard a scream from the bathroom, and then a long, deep grunt.

Draco froze a few steps away from the bathroom door.

"I think the troll has left the dungeon," he heard Potter squeak on the other side of it.

His heart beat furiously in his chest. If Hermione was harmed in any way, he would relish in ripping Potter apart, limb from limb.

There was a thud, and a scream.

"Granger, move!" He heard Weasley bark. There was shattering of wood and another shriek.

"Dammit!" Draco spat, and pushed his way in to the bathroom.

The toilet stalls had been splintered, and wood lay all over the tiled floor. Water was seeping from broken taps, and he lifted the hem of his robes gingerly.

Potter and Weasley were buried in the rubble against the wall closest to the door. It looked like that had been thrown back by some kind of force, and had clearly been knocked out.

The troll stood above the mess, looking into the shards of wood.

Draco took a step back, taking in the sight of the monster. It was grey skinned, about three times as tall as he was, and had a bald head. It wore a dirty loin cloth around its hips, and was held a wooden club in its right hand.

It grunted, and Draco saw a bushy head emerge from the debris.

"Hermione!" Draco shouted, pulling his wand from his pocket.

"Draco! Help!" Hermione cried as a large, grey hand reached into the rubble and gripped her ankle.

The troll lifted her into the air slowly, and began to swing its club in an attempt to beat her.

Draco flicked his wrist, and the club vanished from the troll's grip. The monster looked at his empty hand, confused. He then looked at Draco, and cocked its giant head to the side. Draco stood frozen on the spot, not daring to breath as the troll advanced on him.

Hermione was released from its grip, and she fell to the ground with a dull thud. She scooted back against the broken sinks and cowered against the wall.

The troll lumbered slowly towards where Draco had flattened himself against the door. His heart pounded in his chest, and he swallowed thickly. His hands were sweaty, and his wand slipped from his fingertips.

He ducked as the troll swung his fist at his stomach, and he felt its giant hand graze the top of his head. He swerved to the other side as the troll attempted to belt him again. Trolls were not intelligent, but Draco knew he would have to think of something other than moving out of the range of its fists if he wanted to make it out of the bathroom alive.

He ducked for a third time, sinking to his knees, and he fumbled for his wand as the troll straightened up again. He slowly raised himself back in to a standing position, turning his face up to the face of the troll. It's flat nostrils flared angrily and Draco braced himself as it raised its arm again.

This time, Draco grabbed a hold of the troll's arm and gripped tight. The troll tried to shake him off, flailing its arm about. Draco clung on, and managed to dig his foot into the rolls of fat on the trolls side. He hoisted himself up and with the help of the troll writhing about, he landed on the monster's back, his arms locked around its neck.

The troll let out a long, low grunt of anger and Draco tightened his grip. His wand was still in his hand, and he moved quickly, pointing it at the monster's eyes. He muttered an incantation, one even Hermione hadn't tried yet, and the troll's eyes swelled instantly. It blinked a few times, and yellow goo stuck its eyelids together.

Draco released his hold, and fell easily to the floor. He stumbled back a few paces, and fell to his knees, crawling to huddle with Hermione under the broken sinks.

"Conjunctivitis curse?" She whispered. He nodded. There was an advantage to being Lucius Malfoy's son. He had made sure Draco was equipped with many useful spells before he boarded the Hogwarts Express.

The troll staggered blindly into the few stalls which had not been completely totalled in his first attempt to kill Hermione. A faint thud signalled the troll had knocked his head against the adjacent wall, and he let out a dull roar in frustration. The troll pushed himself backwards, and stumbled over some rubble, losing his footing in the process. Draco covered Hermione with his body as the troll swayed dangerously on the spot, then fell with a resounding crash in front of them.

Draco moved first, and rose out of their hiding place. He prodded the troll's face with the toe of his shoe. It did not move.

He turned back to Hermione, "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," she whispered.

"What in the name of Merlin…!"

They turned to find Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape and Professor Quirrell standing in the door way.

"Explain yourselves!" McGonagall ordered.

They glanced furtively at one another, then both launched into an explanation.

"One at a time!" McGonagall scolded, "Mr Malfoy?"

Draco cleared his throat, "Hermione was missing during the feast," he began.

"I wasn't feeling well," Hermione added.

"I followed Potter and Weasley here; they wouldn't tell me where she was when I asked at dinner."

"Potter tried to grab a hold of the club, but the troll threw him off and he was knocked out," she took a deep breath, "Then Weasley told me to duck, so I did. But he didn't move quickly enough, and the troll splintered the stalls and he got caught up in the movement..."

"Then I came in," Draco nodded.

"And he saved me," Hermione finished.

Their professors stood speechless. Hermione shifted uncomfortably as Snape stared down his long nose at the pair of them, a quizzical look on his face.

"Well," McGonagall started, "If that is the case, I will take Mr Potter and Mr Weasley to the hospital wing. Severus, you may deal with your students as you see fit."

"Thank you," Snape acknowledged his colleague, though his eyes never left Hermione's face.

"I hope you both realise the danger you put yourselves in tonight," he began slowly as the other staff members dispersed.

Draco and Hermione nodded vigorously, staring at the floor.

"Mr Malfoy," Draco glanced up reluctantly, and met Snape's gaze.

The professor smirked, "Ten points to Slytherin."

Draco beamed, "Thank you, sir."

Snape nodded, and turned to leave.

Draco rounded on Hermione.

"What the bloody hell were you thinking?!" He demanded.

Hermione sighed and took his hand, dragging him towards the door. He allowed her to pull him out of the bathroom, and they fell in to step as they traced the familiar path towards the dungeons.

"I was hiding from Lavender Brown and Parvarti Patil. They're Gryffindors, and they were making fun of me after Charms, when you left to go see Snape."

Draco ground his teeth together aggressively, but nodded to signal she should continue.

"Then Weasley showed up," Hermione bit out, "And he was calling me names. I'm so tired of them thinking they're better than us just because they were sorted into a different house," she huffed, "I was angry and hurt, and I went to the bathroom. I finished crying ages ago, but I knew I couldn't show my face in the Hall so I decided to wait until the feast was over."

"I'm going to beat Weasley within an inch of his life!" Draco declared as they climbed into the common room.

"He's not worth it," Hermione argued.

"It would make me feel a lot better," Draco retorted.

Hermione chuckled.

"Thank you for coming to find me. And for saving me," she smiled.

Draco shrugged, and smiled back.

They bid each other goodnight, both too exhausted from the excitement of battling a mountain troll to stay up and talk.


End file.
